


Aftermath of a Quidditch Game

by tigerlilly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-07
Updated: 2005-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 05:16:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerlilly/pseuds/tigerlilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a Quidditch match at the end of the semester Ron finds himself thinking about sweat drops running along skin only to get him into an encounter with Draco behind the locker rooms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath of a Quidditch Game

**Author's Note:**

> written for the LiveJournal 20themes challenge - Ron/Draco - Sweat

Summer came very early this year. Even though we had a hard winter, April was quite warm and sunny. May wasn't much different and when the last Quidditch match of the year takes place at the beginning of June, it's so damn hot that nearly everyone goes out with as few clothes as possible. But believe me that Professor McGonagall and Snape are keeping an eye on us to make sure we are all decently dressed.

Slytherin is playing against Hufflepuff and it's hardly possible that Gryffindor will win the House Cup this year. Slytherin is only fifty points behind us and even though Hufflepuff has a really talented new seeker, he will never have a chance against Malfoy.

With this unpleasant thought present in my mind, I walk to the pitch with my housemates. I seat myself next to Seamus because I can't stand the almost disgusting make-out-sessions of Harry and Hermione anymore. They've been together now since the start of this year and never miss an opportunity to snog nearly everywhere. Not that I'm bothered by them being a couple but sometimes I just don't see the point in showing it to everyone and everywhere at every time. So I decide to let them be and to watch the match with my other roommates.

It turns out that the snitch can't be seen for more than two hours that day. Perhaps it's too lazy to show up with this hot weather. Every player is soaked with sweat by now from the exhausting game and has at least opened his collar. No one is paying attention anymore, even the players have begun to slow down. But when the tiny golden ball finally appears nearby our stand, the Slytherin seeker falls into a dive and grabs it right in front of the slightly dozing crowd.

It takes a while for everyone to realise that the game is over. Even the seeker on the Hufflepuff team hasn't seen what has actually happened yet. Only when the Slytherin stand bursts into a loud roar about the win of more than 300 points ahead of the other team I awake from my drowsiness and watch the blond flying around the pitch in a triumphant manner, a green-silver banner billowing from his broom now.

When he comes back to our stand he stops abruptly, looking determinedly in my direction with a smirk. I don't know why, perhaps it's still some kind of remaining numbness, but all I can do is stare right back at him, wet hair, heavy breathing and a challenging gleam in his eyes. That's when I notice the single drop of sweat running slowly down his neck, following his collarbone only to disappear into the open collar of his shirt.

And the only thing I want to do in this moment is following its path with my tongue.

Before I can even become aware of myself holding my breath he's gone again, leaving me in a state between daydreaming, confusion and unexpected arousal. Unexpected not because of being affected by a guy; no, I had noticed quite early that I'm gay. But Malfoy? That's really a thought that never came to my mind. After all he's a slimy, little prat.

Slowly the stands are emptying and when I regain consciousness I realise that every one of my fellow Gryffindors has left already. I'm asking myself why no one has told me to come with them but I'm still too confused to give a damn about it.

On my way back to the castle all I can do is think about Malfoy, which is somehow quite annoying and exciting all at once. The only thing I see is this drop of sweat, leaving a trail of salt on his skin, which I want to taste.

Without realising it, I don't walk directly towards the castle, but instead take the path along the lake, far away from the other people leaving the Quidditch pitch. When I pass the shed for the Quidditch supplies and the following showers, my path is suddenly blocked. I lift up my gaze from the grass only to lock my eyes with twinkling grey ones. I gulp 'cause I'm not able to read his expression. What’s he up to? But then the typical snarl brakes through my thoughts.

"So alone, Weasley? Where's the rest of the Golden Trio? Consoling themselves for the loss of the House Cup with a shag?" The corner of his mouth turns into a sneer while he's approaching me.

Surprisingly his words do not have the usual effect on me, like causing my body to shake with rage. Perhaps it's his appearance or the hot weather, probably both. His shirt is still wet, sticking to his chest like a second skin, not really hiding anything underneath from my view and I can feel the heat suddenly rising in certain body parts. But I will not give in that easily to him and decide that two can play this game.

"Since when do you care about other people shagging, Malfoy? Need to get a buzz? Haven't seen you with anyone lately. Perhaps you're just jealous that everyone is getting attention except you," I mock him, taking a step closer myself and being somewhat proud of myself to come up with such a retort.

"Just because I'm not showing my sex life to the whole school, doesn't mean that it's non-existent," he hisses while he draws closer and closer until we're only a foot apart, "And since when are you that concerned?" His voice is now threatening and the gleam in his eyes has changed dangerously.

I know I'm walking on thin ice but when he spats "Worry about your own libido" my brain fades out and I push him up against the wooden wall of the broomshed. Perhaps I wouldn't do this if I was able to think clearly but by now his words cause my body to react instinctively and after all, nobody is around to hold me back.

Eventually the predictable anger begins to boil up inside of me but I'm able to control it. When I hear his gasp from the push it gives me a confident feeling anyway. He stares at me with wide open eyes and I have to say that I'm enjoying the moment.

He begins to struggle, trying to get away from me, but my height is an advantage and so I press him even more against the wall, pinning his arms above his head. I can see in his eyes that he doesn't know what to think of this, a slight flicker of fear coming across.

I can smell him now, a mixture of vanilla, sweat and the pure scent of the man he is. Pheromones begin to tickle in my nose, getting me even more aroused. By now my brain is completely shut down and when another drop of sweat starts to wander down his neck I can't restrain myself anymore.

"Doin' that right now," I answer in a whisper to his last sentence before my tongue darts out to lick the salty drop away, following its path up to his earlobe. The moan that escapes his lips only encourages me more and I continue to taste him, neck to throat to ear, savouring his flavour of Quidditch and summer heat.

He's shivering slightly now and when I look up I see that he has closed his eyes. I don't care anymore about house rivalries or that he is a Malfoy. All I want to do at this very minute is to take him in, make him mine even for this short moment. And when I press my lips on his own it's starting to prickle deep down in my chest, that special feeling you get when you're nervous, unsure but turned on at the same time.

I have to admit that I'm surprised when he returns the kiss, responding with the same force and passion as I'm putting into it. There's no tenderness and when I bite down on his lower lip he gasps, giving me entrance to his mouth that I'm taking full advantage of. When my tongue pushes in, it’s welcomed by heat and heavy breath. We're fighting for dominance now, neither of us wants to give in, which would mean letting the other one know that he's surrendering.

Suddenly I hear a squeak, somebody's coming out of the showers, and I feel my heart drop. Even if we're at the back of the sheds, there's always the chance of being caught. I don't let Malfoy go but I can't help myself from looking frantically around. Fortunately the voices fade away and a sigh of relief escapes my lips. Finally everything's quiet.

At least quiet until I feel his breath directly next to my ear. "Not so cocky anymore, Weasley?" he smirks and the only way I can think of to shut him up is doing it myself and so I press my lips against his again, regaining courage again.

My hands loosen their grip at his wrists, one gliding down to his neck where I can feel his quickened pulse and I realise that our hearts are both beating at the same rhythm now, heavy, fast and far beyond normal. My other hand stops at his chest and I feel a lump in my throat when I touch the Quidditch-built body through the thin, wet fabric.

I have to catch my breath and break the kiss. He opens his eyes and they're clouded, dark from arousal, sending a shiver down my spine. My fingers start to unbutton his shirt shakily but I'm not breaking the gaze. Only when he thrusts his hands into my hair, pulling me back to his lips, do I close my eyes, giving in to the sensation of the kiss and the low moans of both of us.

His shirt is finally out of the way, shortly followed by mine and there's no way to deny that by now I'm more aroused than I have ever been. The last distance is closed and now there's skin on skin. My senses are doubled and when our chests touch, a slight film of sweat between them, my nerves catch fire. My fingertips starts to prickle at the slightest contact and when they slide teasingly over his hard nipples his groan sends another wave of shivers through my whole body, starting from our still touching lips, down my neck and chest, directly down to my groin.

Our hips grind together and I can feel that he's as hard as me. My pants feel too tight at the moment, the fabric between us too much for my own needs. His hands glide down my back and I only now realise that I'm sweaty, too. His fingernails are scratching the skin and it starts to burn, but the pain only increases the pleasure and I'm not able to hold back another moan. When he's fumbling with my belt his mouth finds its way to my neck, his teeth starting to bite slightly along my vein, down to the sensitive spot where it meets my shoulder.

I reach down to his groin and when I squeeze his erection through his pants he throws back his head, inhaling deeply. I don't waste any time anymore and within a few seconds I manage to get his pants down. And when finally I help him with my own, there are no more clothes separating our bodies.

But before I take the last step I stop, taking in the sight in front of me. He's leaning against the wall, face flushed and his hair is sticking to his forehead. He's breathing heavily, just like me. My eyes wander down his pale body, slim and slightly muscled, and when my gaze stops at his lower section I see precum glistening at his glans and my own erection twitches in anticipation.

I awake from my staring when I hear his hoarse voice, annoyance lying underneath the lust-filled words, "What are you waiting for? The Giant Squid to lend you a tentacle? Get to work!" The gleam in his dark eyes is the last encouragement I need and with the full force of my whole body I press against him, his lips meeting mine passionately. The feeling of our erections sliding against each other makes my head spin, the sensation of sweat mingling with precum bringing me almost over the edge.

I break the contact of our lips to bring my fingers to his mouth, which he sucks with enthusiasm. His tongue slides along and between my index and middle finger, coating them with saliva. Somehow the expression of his half-lidded eyes, almost dark and twinkling from arousal, is the most erotic thing I have ever seen and I can't hold back a moan. I withdraw my fingers after a minute or so to bring them to his anus. He spreads his legs wider to give me some more access and after circling a few times around his hole I push my two fingers inside, trying to prepare him at least a bit.

I notice that he must have done this before and so I decide that this has to be enough preparation to make it not too painful for him. I couldn't do anything else either way; I really don't take lube with me every time I leave the castle. I know there's a spell for it but somehow my brain can't bring it up now and stopping at this point is far beyond my possibilities.

When I feel his muscles relaxing after some strokes and twists, drawing several groans from him when I met his spot, I remove my fingers and sneak my arms around his waist, lifting him up with one move. His legs clasp around me and I position myself against him, pushing in with a forceful thrust. For a few seconds all I can see are stars from the sudden tightness around me when I enter him. He's gritting his teeth to prevent a cry but I take notice of a single tear escaping his closed eyes. I lick it away when it reaches the corner of his mouth and start to move shakily in a slow rhythm. One of my hands reaches for his shaft, my thumb teasing its head before my fingers match my current pace while following his length from top to bottom and back.

When I feel him relaxing I pick up a faster tempo, increasing it bit by bit. His hands cling to my shoulders while he tries to move against me in rhythm, panting heavily, low groans coming from both of us. It doesn’t take long until I feel that my climax nears. I shift my angle slightly to aim at his prostate and when he spurts his seed after one final thrust in a loud cry over my fingers, tightening around me, I can't hold it back anymore, biting down his neck to muffle my own cry of release.

My knees ease off from the exhaustion and his weight before we're sliding down onto the grass, breaking down on our discarded clothes in a mess of sweat and cum. But I really don't care at the moment. When our breathing returns to normal after a few minutes he rolls off from me and searches for his wand. With a flick he cleans us and we're standing wordlessly up to dress again.

When we're done, there's another moment of silence in which we're only staring into each others eyes. I find myself wondering about his expression, unreadable but there's something new, something I never saw on his face but I'm not able to put it into words.

Then we're heading in different directions. I pretend that this little encounter was only an isolated incident caused from the heat. But when I'm going back up the stairs to the Gryffindor tower all I can think of is why he cried my name when he came.


End file.
